


Everyday With You (Is Something New)

by gyuneomi



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: (just a lil bit), 5+1 Fic, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Magical Realism, Injury Recovery, Jealousy, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rating May Change, Slow Burn, Witches, colors as metaphors for love, i genuinely could not tell you, please don't ask when this is set
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-26
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 07:47:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27729760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gyuneomi/pseuds/gyuneomi
Summary: Five times Chan falls for the beautiful witch he saved,And one time Minho returns the favor.
Relationships: Bang Chan/Lee Minho | Lee Know, Kim Seungmin/Lee Felix, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 17
Kudos: 83





	1. Purple

**Author's Note:**

> tysm to rosllyn for creating the super cool prompt that inspired this fic! i hope i did it justice :]
> 
> tw for this chapter: light wound description (nothing graphic, but stay safe regardless!)
> 
> \--------------
> 
> Purple:  
> Spirituality, mystery, imagination, immature

Chan doubts that he’ll ever forget the first time he ever met eyes with the enigma that is Lee Minho. The occasion had been far too significant in his short life for anything -- even time -- to blur the details from his mind.

The trip was supposed to be a simple one. Investigate a witch’s coven that had burned down just the night before. Get in, see if he could find any evidence of what had started the fire, get out. Easy, and a good payout if he were able to find any evidence of premeditation.

The location of the coven had been a challenge to uncover, surely due to the concealment charms that had only just begun to waver after their casters had fled. The building itself was tucked into a bramble-lined clearing, far from anywhere unsuspecting eyes would even try to peek. Far enough into the forest to ensure security, but a close enough walk to the edges of the nearby city that gathering standard necessities wasn’t an impossible task -- Chan could see the appeal.

He approached the building carefully. If he knew anything about witches, regardless of their specialty, it was that they were fiercely protective of what they held dear, whether it be a home, their coven, or even a hairbrush, witches were known for protecting with their lives. Chan didn’t doubt for a second that there were a few hexes strewn about the property, surely for keeping strangers like himself away.

Through the gaps in the trees before him, he could just make out the outline of a squat, charred structure, hardly recognizable from the way it undoubtedly burst with life before. Chan could only grieve briefly for the coven that had lost a beautiful home, assuming they were alive and well. He truly hoped they were.

Advancing on the blackened ruins, the most noticeable thing was the strong smell of smoke that still lingered in the air. It was strangely acidic, perhaps from burned potion ingredients, though Chan could never be sure. The stone walkway led past rows upon rows of shriveled flowers, fruits, and vegetables. The brunette felt a pang in his heart at the destruction that had overtaken what had surely taken months upon months to cultivate, maybe even years.

The front door lay ajar -- if it could even be called that, considering the bottom half was almost completely gone; it looked more like a wonky pet door than anything. Chan pushed it open tentatively, both greatly concerned about the structural integrity of the house now it had been reduced to just a shell, as well as what he may see inside. What if a cat hadn’t made it out? For having been a Hunter on his own for almost six years now, Chan never handled animal death well. Or worse … a person?

The inside looked just as bad as the outside, and smelled even worse. Chan had to bring his shirt up to his nose in an attempt to avoid choking on the cloying stench of burnt. He had figured it would be bad, but the astringent stink that left his eyes watering was surely something that would cling to his skin for days, if not weeks, regardless of how many desperate showers he took.

Coughing, the brunette made his way around the house as slowly as he could bring himself to, searching for any signs of foul play -- a gunpowder stain here, the tail of a flare there -- but alas, nothing.

The kitchen, being one of the most intact rooms on the first floor, was where Chan spent most of his time. Clearly, the fire hadn't started there, but he hoped to find at least something of worth that hadn’t been burnt to a crisp. (At least that’s what he told himself, instead of admitting that he truly only stayed there because the air had been marginally more breathable.)

Through a hole in the western-most wall of the kitchen, Chan’s eye caught on one of the two vibrant orange suns, just beginning to sink below the horizon. The Hunter contemplated calling it a day, perhaps coming back when the atmosphere was more bearable and the ruins had sat for a bit.

Then he heard it.

Chan wasn’t quite sure how to place it at first. It had been soft, so quiet that had hunting for years not sharpened his senses to a fine point, Chan surely would have missed it. It was a growl of sorts, and yet … it sounded concerningly human, or at least something akin to one. And it was coming from upstairs.

The upper floor of the house had been something that Chan almost immediately refused to touch. Not that he had wanted to avoid it, necessarily, but one look at the condition of the stairwell had sent the Hunter backward. Not had it just looked like any amount of weight might splinter the wood into shattering, but it seemed as though it was ready to do so on its own at any moment.

So the stairs had been out of the question. Until now.

“Hello?” Chan called out cautiously. He couldn’t be sure how aggressive whatever -- whoever? -- was up there would be, but they were likely injured. Chan knew from experience how defensive that could make anything; may it be a wild animal, a witch, etc. The Hunter wasn’t quite sure which one he preferred.

A reply didn’t come immediately, but Chan expected that, and he waited. For about two minutes he sat there until a soft but firm voice resounded through the thin walls.

“Who are you?” A fair question, Chan would admit. He just hoped the new figure would allow him upstairs soon -- unless they were a thief hiding out in the most unfortunate of locations, they were most likely a witch, injured and unable to move. Perhaps Chan could help.

“My name is Chan. Are you injured?”

“Why are you here, Chan?” The Hunter sighed, taking notice of their deflection of the question at hand.

“I’m here on request to explore this place. Some beings are concerned that the fire was an attack as opposed to an accident.” They might know what happened, his brain supplied. Chan pushed the thought away, however. He couldn’t bring himself to take advantage of someone who was possibly injured, just to advance his own search.

“May I come up?” Chan asked when he received no answer.

Another long silence, then a hesitant, “You may.”

The stairs were … an issue, to say the least. The first step essentially crumbled under the weight of one foot, and the second didn’t look any better. Eventually, Chan managed to find planks that would sufficiently hold his weight in almost all of the steps, save for the last two at the top. The Hunter managed to jump the gap relatively easily, however, and found himself on the landing into the second floor.

“Where are you?” Chan asked carefully, intentionally keeping his voice soft and as non-threatening as possible. He could hear muted shuffling from down the hall to the left, followed by a hoarse, wheezing cough. He followed the noise. 

Pushing open a relatively intact door at the end of the hall, Chan was immediately met with blinding sunlight of such force that he was forced to close his eyes until they adjusted. That, along with a sudden breeze raking its fingers through his hair, was one of the first things he noticed. The second was a man.

The first thing Chan spotted were the eyes. Glinting, dark, and distinctly feline. The rest all came into focus soon after -- came together to create a figure that could rival the moon itself in all its gentle beauty; matted locks, dirt-smudged skin and all.

What drew Chan’s full attention afterward, however, were the gruesome burns and gashes that littered the man’s body … most especially his left leg, which seemed to be covered in more crimson blood than flesh-tone. Great burns stretched up his thigh where his briefs were slashed, presumably to give the wound area to breathe, and his calves didn’t seem to be faring much better.

“Great gods…” Chan whispered, “It’s a miracle you’re alive.”

The man tilted his head as if examining the Hunter. “I presume you don’t have the materials necessary to assist me, do you?”

Chan grimaced, shaking his head. Not with him, at least. These wounds would require much more than he could fit into his measly traveling bag. He expressed as much to the man before him.

“But I should be able to help the worst of them,” He supplied, “If you’ll let me, of course.” The man paused, expression calculating for a moment, before conceding, albeit reluctantly.

“If you insist.”

It took Chan a few minutes to figure out how exactly he would go about the task at hand. He decided, eventually, that he would have to cut away at the material of the man’s briefs up to mid-thigh level. The man below him looked beyond cautious, understandably so, but allowed it after a few moments of gentle coercion from the Hunter.

Chan knew he had to work fast -- the setting suns indicated that he only had about twenty good minutes of light left before they would sink below the sky, leaving the pair in a darkness Chan knew he couldn’t work in.

They made little small talk while Chan tended to the other’s wounds. Only the occasional “This will hurt,” and “Ready?” paired with the sound of breath hissing through teeth. Chan had to admit that the man before him had an astounding pain tolerance, even if most of it was hidden behind a carefully schooled expression of disinterest.

Dark was just beginning to settle when Chan finished with the major wounds, fresh out of both emergency bandages and disinfectant. He would have to travel into the city for more soon. But for the time being, his main focus of worry was the injured man who was (technically) in his care.

“I should have the proper treatments back at my cabin,” Chan said, “If we go now, hopefully we can-”

“We? Your cabin? Absolutely not.” The man bristled, and yeah, Chan really should have expected something along those lines, especially if this man truly was a witch.

“Please,” He pleaded, a bit ashamed to be begging a person he hardly knew, but his need to help won out over his pride, “You can leave as soon as your wounds are healed, I swear on my life. But you will die if you stay here, no question about it. Let me assist you.”

The witch sighed, clearly not thrilled with the idea but understanding nonetheless of how much his life depended on the help of a stranger.

“Fine. I will go. But how do you expect me to get down those wretched stairs? I heard you struggling up them for twenty minutes.” Chan grimaced, eying the other’s leg. He truly didn’t want to say anything that could be deemed offensive, but he wasn’t so sure how the other would be able to walk with his leg as it was -- really, Chan doubted he’d be able to at all.

“I will carry you.” The Hunter said, voice carrying much more confidence in the proposal than he felt himself. He was sure the witch would rather die in this dingy, charred room than be carried by anyone. And yet… 

“Very well.”

Chan tried not to let his shock slip through to his expression, but he may have failed if the quirk at the sides of the witch’s mouth was anything to go by.

Hoisting the witch up onto his back was not a particularly fun task, given his injuries. The other winced and hissed in pain each time his wounds were brushed, but the pair eventually managed to situate themselves in a comfortable enough position so that Chan could navigate successfully, with the other being in as minimal pain as possible (which surely wasn’t much).

“By the way,” Chan hummed, finally exiting the room at the end of the hallway, “What’s your name?” There was a long, long pause before he received an answer -- so long, in fact, that Chan was convinced that the witch had fallen asleep when he mumbled his answer.

“Call me Lee.”

oO✦Oo

The trek back to Chan’s cabin had been … arduous, to say the least.

Maneuvering around someone with a paper cut was difficult, let alone a witch with possibly fatal burn wounds and an apparent refusal to exhibit any other emotion than pure indifference. Now, throw that onto Chan’s back and add one hundred twenty pounds of weight to it. A challenge if there ever was one.

Regardless, Chan couldn’t remember the journey being so long. Surely, it had only taken him two hours or so to reach the burned coven dwelling? If that truly was the case, he had to wonder why it seemed so much longer on the way back. Perhaps it was the exertion of the day coupled with the weight of a sleeping Lee on his shoulders, weighing him down. Or maybe was anxious to return to his home, longing for a sense of normalcy that had been utterly shaken with the discovery of the witch on his back.

It didn’t really matter though, did it.

By the time Chan could see the unmistakable faint glow that indicated his small cabin was ever so near, the sky had already begun it’s slow fade into morning as the faintest splash of orangish-yellow spread along the horizon line.

The scraggly shrubs Chan had always forgotten to trim had never looked so welcoming than when the Hunter finally reached his doorstep. Body aching and mind hazing from exhaustion, he entered the building carefully, mindful of not bumping a sleeping Lee’s head on the doorway as he did so.

Thanking the gods that his couch was both empty and somewhat comfortable, Chan carefully deposited the sleeping witch down, freezing only momentarily at the soft grumble Lee gave before promptly falling back asleep, much to Chan’s relief. He could only deal with so much of that cold, distrusting look for one night.

Briefly looking over the most gruesome of injuries the witch possessed and promptly deciding that none of them needed emergency treatment, Chan (somewhat guiltily), allowed himself to collapse down into his bed with a groan.

Though, he feared how much sleep he would actually manage, with loose thoughts of robes and burns and those eyes. But despite all of that, unlike most nights, sleep reached Chan easily.

oO✦Oo

Morning came far too quickly for Chan’s liking, though it seemed that way every night. The sun had fully risen over the horizon and begun it’s track across the sky when Chan awoke, something rare for the Hunter -- he was very rarely asleep by the time the sun had risen. The day before had been awfully remarkable, however, so the morning after would likely hold true as well, he figured.

Lee still seemed dead to the world in his sleep as Chan entered the main room of his home, heading to the kitchen to prepare a pot of coffee. He would certainly need to find a new living space for the other, regardless of how temporary his stay would be -- seeing the witch strewn across his couch made the Hunter feel strangely guilty.

By the time the other had begun to stir, Chan had a full pot of coffee ready to be poured and eggs frying on the skillet. The witch had only made his cognizance known when he grumbled something along the lines of “Hungry. Food.”

Chan hummed from his spot in the kitchen. “I’ll be over with food in a moment. Don’t move, okay? You’ll only aggravate the injuries.” The Hunter missed the poisonous look he received in response. Evidently, the witch did not take too kindly to being told what to do.

“I hope you like eggs and coffee,” Chan announced, setting the food on the table beside the witch. “If not, I have, uh… eggs. And coffee. I’ve got to go to the market soon, sorry about that.”

Thankfully, Lee did indeed seem to like eggs and coffee. Or at least tolerate them to the point of not complaining, which Chan was infinitely grateful for. It allowed him to rid himself of the frankly gross clothes he had fallen asleep in, saturated in char and sweat, as well as take a much-needed shower.

By the time he had returned, Lee had long finished off his food, now sitting still enough to rival a statue, those calculating eyes never leaving Chan.

“How’s your leg?” The Hunter asked, keeping great care to move carefully, slowly, as if the other were akin to an easily spooked cat. He probably was, Chan considered. Just leagues deadlier, too.

He received no response from the witch, something that was quickly becoming routine, yet didn’t let the indifference deter him. He knew the haphazardly wrapped bandages around Lee’s left thigh weren’t enough to ensure the healing process would happen properly.

“We should have stronger bandages around here somewhere,” He mused thoughtfully, “Wait here.” It only really crossed his mind while he was searching through the bathroom cupboard that the witch almost definitely couldn’t do anything other than sit and wait right there.

When he’d emerged from the cupboard with less heavy-duty bandages than he had hoped for and a plan to go to the market that afternoon, Lee had already maneuvered himself on the couch so that his burns were more accessible for the Hunter to tend to, which Chan had to admit sent shocks of hope through him -- maybe there was a chance that this witch didn’t completely despise his guts yet.

“I’m going to have to go to the market today for more supplies, and food.” He informed Lee as he began to gently unwrap the bandage covering the expanse of his left thigh. “Is it okay to leave you alone for a few hours?”

“I am not a wild animal,” The witch grouched, voice venomous. “I cannot even move.”

Chan couldn’t help but grin, because words were words, no matter how bitter, and he had finally managed some out of the rueful witch before him.

“I’m gonna get going soon, alright? Do you need anything?” He’d been able to patch up the worst of the burns relatively well, but he still knew he would need more supplies if he were to successfully fend off any infection.

Lee looked at him in that strange way he frequented, calculating and searching with a bit of something else, though Chan could never place what it was.

“I will nap.” The witch said resolutely, slowly laying down again once he noticed Chan had finished his ministrations on his leg.

“That’s good, I’m sure you’re still exhausted.” Chan hummed to no answer, and yet he didn’t expect one.

Grabbing his coat from the rack by the front door, Chan took one last survey of his home, with the new addition of a sleeping witch on his couch, of course (he would seriously need to find a new place for him to sleep, damn his one-bedroom house) before gently closing the door, exhaustion weighing down his bones, but an excitement for what was to come lifting him even further.

oO✦Oo

The return home felt strangely uneasy for Chan. Arms loaded with bags of all different origins, he knew he should feel content, and if he was being honest with himself, exhausted. Instead, he just felt a looming sense of worry, the hairs on his neck standing on end for a reason he couldn’t comprehend. The first worry in his mind was Lee.

He had only been gone for three hours at best though, to the small market at the edge of the city. What could have happened in that span of time? Chan didn’t want to know the answer, knowing how vulnerable the witch was in his state of injury (though he wouldn’t dare to mention that out loud, knowing how volatile the other could be.)

Hopefully he was just over exaggerating. Yeah, that’s what it was. He was just stressed and tired and his brain was playing tricks on him. Although, that explanation faded quickly when he opened the front door to an empty main room, devoid of life.

Chan pushed down his first instinct, which was panic. Maybe Lee had needed to use the bathroom? Well, he could hardly walk, and also didn’t know where that was. All Chan could do was frantically check every room of the small house, the mini garden out back and all.

Finally, he tried the bathroom door. It was locked.

“Lee?” Chan called out, tone just edging on panicked. For a moment, silence, then a soft growling noise. Was there a dog? The brunette had to rack his brain before realizing it had been the same sound he’d heard from the witch back in the burned down kitchen of the old coven house.

“Lee, are you in there?” He tried again. This time, a verbal answer, though not a particularly pleasant one.

“Leave now, or I promise I will curse your limbs to rot and fall off one by one.”

Well then. He was angry.

“What happened? Did I do something wrong?” Chan tried. He knew he was pushing it just by standing there, but he desperately needed to figure out why the aloof witch was suddenly spitting threats of horrible curses at him.

“You know what you are, monster.” That one hurt, and Chan wasn’t even quite sure what the witch was referring to. That he was a human? It had surely been noticeable from the moment they met, right?

“I- I’m not following,”

“You’re a gods forsaken Hunter of all things, and you convinced me into your home. I should kill you where you stand!” A small, very stupid part of Chan’s brain couldn’t help but celebrate at the fact that the threat was probably the longest string of words he’d heard from the witch to date. The rational part of him could only desperately search for a way to diffuse the situation.

“Many Hunters do not carry evil intentions,” He spoke slowly, very aware of how shaky his voice sounded even to his own ears, and yet not being able to do a thing about it.

“I would rather swim in the cursed Axya than believe a word from the mouth of a hunter,” The witch hissed. Something bumped against the door, and Chan leaped back on instinct, almost knocking into the wall behind him. He could feel his hands shaking.

“I don’t wish to hurt you in the slightest,” Chan mumbled, hoping the other could hear him lest he be fried to a crisp in a matter of moments. “You’re far more powerful than I could ever be, why bring you back here to nurse you? If I wanted to kill you I would have when I found you. But I didn’t want that.”

The silence that Chan had quickly grown accustomed to now seemed to stretch on for hours, every thump of his pounding heart sounding in his ears. He truly hoped he had convinced the witch that he meant well, at least temporarily. If not … he didn’t particularly wish to think about that possibility.

“I do not trust you, Hunter” Lee announced, and Chan could feel his heart drop to his toes, please don’t kill me please don’t kill me please d- “However, you have made a fair case for yourself. If I am to regain the strength I need, I must put my faith in you, most unfortunately.”

“Does … does that mean you’ll come out of the bathroom?” Chan asked hesitantly. For a moment he thought he heard a dry chuckle, but strained his ears again and found nothing. It must have been his imagination once again.

“Yes, I will leave the bathroom. It’s too small in here anyway.” The witch sighed, and the door unlocked. Chan opened it tentatively, worried for multiple reasons, and the concern in the forefront of his mind was laid out for him perfectly. He had almost forgotten about Lee’s leg during the anxiety of the recent encounter, but looking at it now, Chan only felt unease.

“How did you even get over here on this leg?” The brunette wondered quietly, couching down a safe distance away from the witch to examine it. It didn’t look any worse, but that wasn’t saying much. Getting from the couch all the way to the bathroom must have been unimaginably painful.

“It was … a journey,” Lee sighed, “One that I don’t wish to repeat. Will you assist me?”

“Oh, uh- of course.”

Getting the witch back onto the couch was thankfully very easy, (he couldn’t have weighed more than one hundred twenty pounds and Chan was quite proud of his arms if he does say so himself) which the Hunter was thankful for. It couldn’t have been far past noon and yet exhaustion began to creep up on him once again, thoroughly spent after the action of the last twenty-four hours. Chan sat down heavily on the carpeted floor, blinking slowly at the tattered edges of the rug by his feet.

Lee could see it too if his almost pitying gaze was anything to go by. Chan surely wasn’t hiding the sagging of his body very well, especially not when it felt like anvils had been strapped to his bones.

“Do you wish to sleep?” The witch asked, “You look abysmal.”

Well, the honesty was refreshing at least. Chan knew it would be fruitless to attempt sleep at this hour, though. His body rarely let him sleep at midnight, let alone noon. He expressed as much to the other.

“Well, I suppose if you’re going to stay awake, I could propose something?”

“It depends, I guess.”

“Fine,” He sighed, “I’m supposed to trust you, and yet I know next to nothing about you. I wish to know more.”

“What, about me?” Lee nodded.

“That’s a two-way street then. I know next to nothing about you, either.”

“But I’m not the person who invited a stranger to live in his house, now am I?”

Well, Chan couldn’t really argue with that.

“I’m not going to tell you about me for nothing in return,” Chan said firmly, and oh. He really hoped he hadn’t stepped over the line with that one. His careful work of being as non-aggressive as possible might have just gone down the drain and-

“Okay. How did you become a Hunter?” It took the brunette a moment to process that. Was there ever a moment in his life when he wasn’t one?

“My father was one, and he always trained me to be like him. It just … came naturally, I guess.” Lee nodded sagely, but did not respond. It took Chan a moment to realize that the witch was waiting for him to ask a question now. Right.

“What type of witch are you?” He had seen plenty of witches in his day, but none had exuded the same type of gentle beauty as the man across from him.

“I am a lunar witch. My kind are rare, I’m not surprised you’ve never met one on your travels. We tend to be private by nature.” You don’t say, Chan thought absentmindedly.

“That’s interesting, so you gather your strength via the moon?”

“Yes, we are strongest at night. Actually, I believe we’re supposed to be nocturnal, to an extent at least. I was never raised that way though.”

“Oh,” Chan furrowed his eyebrows. “What about your parents?” He could sense himself drawing ever closer to that invisible line, but curiosity got the best of him. Thankfully, Lee didn’t seem too off-put.

“Oh, with witches the young are left to the coven at birth all the time. I never knew mine, but I can’t say I mind.” The nonchalant way in which he spoke about being essentially abandoned as a baby was absolutely mind-boggling to Chan, but he didn’t press. “What about you?”

Ah, he figured that would come up once parents were mentioned.

“They’re gone,” The Hunter admitted, “Have been for a while. Both of them fell gravely ill around the same time. Seven years now I think.” he’d long gotten over their deaths, but talking about it always tended to dredge up feelings that he preferred to be ignored.

“I apologize, I’m sure that must have been difficult for you.” Chan looked up, startled. Lee’s expression mirrored that of genuine … sadness? Pity? The brunette was used to nothing other than indifference, besides a rare quirk of the lips perhaps. This undeniable expression of emotion on the witch’s face was touching in a way Chan had never felt before.

“It was, but I healed.” He finally admitted. The other nodded solemnly.

“And for that I am glad.”

Before Chan could piece together a response, Lee yawned widely, almost reminiscent of a cat, and curled himself closer into the couch.

“Tired?” Chan guessed, to no response other than a tired hum. “I’ll leave you to it then, Lee. I’ll be out in the garden if you need me.”

He made to stand up and leave, but a cold hand reached out to grab his wrist before he could back away and he stilled. The witch looked up to him, eyes large and with the same expression within them as before, yet this time there almost seemed to be a hint of trust, if Chan could trust his perception.

“Chan,” The witch mumbled.

“Yeah?”

“Minho. My name is Minho.” Oh. Oh. Chan tried in vain to suppress his grin of pure delight.

“Alright. Sleep well, Minho.”


	2. Blue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blue:
> 
> Trust, loyalty, responsibility, predictable

“Chan, I want to go to the beach.”

  
  


“You want to- the  _ beach? _ ”

  
  


“That  _ is  _ what I said, yes.” 

  
  


Chan blinked. “You can’t swim with your leg like it is,” Minho’s thigh had been healing slowly in the two weeks that he’d been in Chan’s care, but it was still slow going and absolutely  _ not  _ healed enough for anything at all beach-related. “Can you even swim?”

  
  


“No,” Minho scoffed, “Water is horrible. But I miss the wind. And the waves, when they’re fifteen feet away from me, that is.”

  
  


The Hunter sighed. “I’m not sure that sand is the best surface to walk on when you’re just starting to heal.” That was also a valid point. Minho had only just started to be able to walk steadily on hardwood flooring, after all. Sand was too fickle to find good footing on when healthy, let alone injured.

  
  


The witch frowned, “But-”

  
  


“Minho, please. I promise that we’ll go when your leg has healed more. For now, let’s just focus on recovery, alright?” Minho didn’t like  _ that  _ plan at all if the look in his eyes was anything to go by, but luckily for Chan (and his blood pressure), the witch gave in without any further argument.

  
  


“If you’re up for it, could you go out to the garden and check on the peppers?” Chan hummed, “It rained last night but they may need a bit more water.”

  
  


Minho nodded quickly, having moved on from the previous conversation easily at the prospect of gardening. Chan never mentioned anything, of course, but he could sense the restless energy practically radiating off of the witch. In the way his leg would constantly bounce to his wandering fingers that pulled on the threads of Chan’s couch. Constantly. The Hunter did his best to supply the other with little tasks daily, just to keep him busy for an hour or so at a time (he also couldn’t deny that he appreciated the help, not having to worry about the little tasks that seemingly always needed to be done greatly put his mind at ease).

  
  


In their free time, they talked more. Nothing too personal -- Minho would tense up if Chan’s questions veered towards too intimate and the Hunter would immediately back off. But Chan did learn a few things -- Minho was younger than him by almost exactly a year, making him still relatively adolescent in a witch’s perspective. However, he was powerful despite his age and apparently could make do of the threats he made to Chan those weeks ago. That fact didn’t make Chan feel any more at ease, but at least he knew who he was dealing with, at least.

  
  


Minho, in turn, learned things about Chan as well. He preferred to stay away from the crowds of the city, hence him living in a cabin in the woods despite the multiple friends he has in the city.

  
  


“So, you’re a recluse,” Minho observed, a smirk pulling at his lips.

  
  


“I’m not a _recluse._ ” Chan shot back. “The city just gets overwhelming sometimes.” Minho had merely hummed noncommittally, and Chan had the sinking feeling that he wouldn’t be shaking the ‘recluse’ title for a while.

  
  


“I will … remember that.”

  
  


“That sounds like a threat,” Chan observed dryly. Minho didn’t grace him with a reply, however. The witch only raised his eyebrows and shrugged. Not particularly comforting.

  
  


“By the way,” Chan snapped his fingers, “You’re going to have a bed soon. I forgot to mention that. I just have to clear out storage space and get the mattress, which is, uh, easier said than done, but I’ll manage.”

Chan couldn’t say he expected confetti to rain down from the sky and a singing group of cherubs to materialize after he announced that. He was pretty sure he expected more than a suspicious squint in his direction though.

  
  


“Why?” Was all Minho had to say.  _ What? _

  
  


“It was enough for you to allow me your couch, but a bed in its own room? What are you playing at.” Chan was … bewildered, to say the least. He had hoped Minho’s distrust towards him had dissipated somewhat in the weeks they’d spent together, but evidently, it was more ingrained in the witch than Chan had realized.

  
  


“Um, to be kind? Y’know, so you can avoid future back problems? I don’t…”

  
  


Minho only scoffed, curling in on himself slightly from his seat on the couch. “Humans are the opposite of kind. They’re selfish by nature, and it would be foolish to trust one.”

  
  


Ouch. But fair. Chan had met enough detestable humans in his time to be able to verify Minho’s claim tenfold.

  
  


“Then… let me prove it.” Chan eventually said, after long deliberation. He doubted his ability to sway the witch on the spot, if it was even possible. He would have to earn the trust of the other, and he was more than willing to do so. “Let me prove to you that I’m not one of the horrible humans. I don’t want anything from you, I just want to see you heal properly.”

  
  


Minho blinked owlishly, clearly having not expected that answer, though he righted himself swiftly.

  
  


“You can try, I won’t stop a valiant attempt.” And while that wasn’t a particularly encouraging answer, Chan took all he could and ran with it. Sure, he didn’t have a plan at all, really. But to be fair, he never really did and he’d made it  _ this  _ far, right? Just barely, maybe, but those were points to be glossed over if you were to ask him.

“Great,” The Hunter breathed. “It’s getting late though, and I have to get up early to head to the market tomorrow. I think I’ll be heading to bed.”

  
  


“Early?” Minho scoffed, “You rise before the sun does, how early could you possibly need to be?”

  
  


Chan only smiled. “I usually try to get to the market before the brunt of the crowds do, it’s easier.”

  
  


Minho muttered something inaudible under his breath as Chan made to stand.

  
  


“Goodnight,” He eventually mumbled, just barely still in earshot. Chan grinned, though the other couldn’t see it from where the Hunter stood in the bathroom.

  
  


“Goodnight Minho, rest well.”

  
  


oO✦Oo

  
  


The six week anniversary of Minho’s arrival into Chan’s home had come and gone faster than chan thought. He could confidently claim that not a whole lot had changed, save for the fact that Minho now had an actual bedroom (though small, he was sure the privacy was a blessing). The lunar witch seemed to be warming up to him steadily, albeit slowly. Once in a while, he would tell stories of his old coven, reliving the past with a look in his eyes that was present only then, and surely something that Chan was not meant to see. The Hunter never commented on it, but he couldn’t deny that the stories were infinitely entertaining.

  
  


Minho’s leg had begun to show great improvement as well, so much so that Chan was comfortable with taking him down to the market if the witch so requested (which was often, though Chan really couldn’t blame him for not wanting to be stuck indoors 24/7)

  
  


The Hunter had really begun to consider Minho’s beach request then. He had never forgotten about it, despite the brevity of the conversation all those weeks ago. The Hunter fully planned on making it a reality, he just needed to find the right time.

  
  


It presented itself quicker than he thought it would.

  
  


oO✦Oo

  
  


“Hey, can we talk?” Chan asked, approaching Minho who was sat at the kitchen table, book in hand. Chan remembered buying that one for him during one of their last trips to the market. The witch had taken a great interest in fiction novels, claiming the coven hadn’t had anything nearly of the sort besides spellbooks and the odd potion recipe textbook.

  
  


“Hm?” The other glanced over the top of his book, setting it down completely when he realized how serious the Hunter looked.

  
  


“I’m leaving for an assignment in three days,” Chan finally said after a bout of hesitation. Minho cocked his head.

  
  


“Okay. I’m not sure why it’s some big announcement.” Chan had started going on regular assignments again a couple of weeks ago after taking some time off to care for the witch. They only ever took a day, two at the most to complete. “Good luck though,” Minho added as an afterthought.

  
  


“No, I-” Chan sighed, scratching the back of his neck. A nervous habit of his. Minho could tell there was more to it than he was letting on.

  
  


“It’s a big one, I’ll be gone for … a while.”

  
  


“How long is ‘a while’ then?” Minho asked, somewhat hesitantly.

  
  


“About three weeks.”

  
  


Oh.  _ Oh. _

  
  


Three weeks. That was far longer than Minho had been away from Chan in the entirety of the time they’d known each other.

  
  


Chan frowned and dragged a hand over his face. “I’m sorry. It’s just- the pay on this one is too good to pass up, and having been MIA for so long I could use it and-”

  
  


“I understand, Chan.” Minho placated gently. He could sense how agitated this made the older. Chan clearly wasn’t content with being gone that long, but Minho could try his best to soothe him.

  
  


“I won’t destroy anything, promise.”

  
  


“I’m not worried about that,” Chan mumbled absentmindedly, “I trust you. I just … don't feel right having to leave you here alone. You can obviously take care of yourself, I know that, I just- I don’t know, I worry.” He finished with a sigh. “ What if something goes wrong?”

  
  


Minho placed a soothing hand on his arm, “Nothing will go wrong,” He said, conviction strong enough to convince even Chan to temporarily halt his worrying. “And under the rare event that it does, I tolerate your friends from the market well enough to go to them if there are any issues.”

  
  


Hearing those words come from the witch's mouth was nearly enough to send Chan into a fit of crazed happy tears, as embarrassing as it would be. Minho’s words were reassuring and placating all at once and somehow, it was exactly what Chan needed to hear.

  
  


“Gods, thank you, Minho.” Chan breathed. “It means the world.”

  
  


The two sat in a comfortable silence after that, Minho resuming his book, and Chan humming quickly to himself.

  
  


“Hey, Minho?”

  
  


“Hm.”

  
  


“How would you feel about going on that beach trip soon? Before I leave. I think your leg has healed enough by now.” Chan watched in real-time as Minho’s eyes lit up at the suggestion. 

  
  


“That would be amazing. When do you leave?”

  
  


“Ah, three days.”

  
  


Minho grinned, almost child-like in a manner Chan had never seen before. “Tomorrow then.”

  
  


“I suppose so,” Chan sighed, eyeing the witch fondly. The Hunter couldn’t even bring himself to be annoyed, not after Minho’s rare expression of such emotion.

  
  


“Let’s get some rest then, alright? The trip is long and we’ll need to be up early.” the witch nodded dutifully, folding the corner of the page in his book and setting it down. Considering how little Minho set his books down once he got his hands on them, Chan knew how important this was to the other. Still a bit strange considering his great aversion for water, but who was Chan to judge?

  
  


“Sleep well, Minho.”

  
  


“You as well, Chan.”

  
  


oO✦Oo

  
  


The pair rose before the sun, eating breakfast quickly in the growing light of dawn shining through the windows of the kitchen before they were out of the small cabin and on the familiar trek into town.

  
  


“I still don’t understand,” Minho grumbled, “Why is this trip necessary?” Chan, again, refused to grace the other with an answer.

  
  


The stone walkways and narrow wooden house frames made the market section of the town all the more cozy looking, especially in the midday. However, in the slowly brightening light, the main square and surrounding areas looked dead, almost ghostly in their emptiness. Minho quickly decided that this barren feel did not suit the place whatsoever.

  
  


“Nobody is even awake right now.” The witch scoffed. He kicked a pebble, sending it skittering across the road when Chan took a sudden turn towards the outskirts of the area. Minho wasn’t even sure if there were shops this way, he’d never been there as far as he’d known.

  
  


The muffled sounds of barnyard animals was probably the last thing he expected to hear, though.

  
  


He watched as Chan walked right up to one of the furthermost stable, encased in morning shadow, and pet whatever was inside. Intrigued, Minho couldn’t help but follow.

  
  


“Oh,” he breathed once he reached the stable. The horse that stood inside was gorgeous. As far as horses went. Its mane was jet black and looked so soft, as did the rest of its mottled black and white body. It was clearly taken care of well. Minho was just shocked he’d never seen it before. He hadn’t even set foot in this part of the town, for gods’ sakes.

  
  


“Like her?” Chan smiled. “Meet Cobalt.”

  
  


Minho tentatively reached a handout, brushing it against the side of the mare’s mane. Chan only looked on fondly.

  
  


“How come I’ve never seen her before?” Minho wondered quietly. “It’s been months.” he watched the Hunter shrug from his peripheral. “Is she not yours?”

  
  


“No, she’s mine.” Chan sighed. “Got her a few years ago when she was a filly, she was awfully sick and her owner was tired of trying to help her, I guess. He gave her to me for free, clearly didn’t expect much of me, I’m sure. She’s doing great now, though.”

  
  


That was … a surprisingly heartwarming story. Minho’s eyes softened the slightest bit.

  
  


“I’m glad you did. She’s beautiful.”

  
  


“She is, isn’t she? We should get going, the sun’s just about to crest, with luck we’ll get there a bit before noon.”

  
  


Admittedly, up until then, Minho hadn’t been sure just how far away the beach was. The whole waking up at grey dawn gave some clue, but the realization that this was an hours-long trip both ways only put a smile on the witch’s face. After all, Chan was doing this to make Minho happy before he left. It meant more to him than he would ever put into words.

  
  


“I’ll get the saddle,” Chan chuckled, spotting Minho’s quite clueless expression. He’d rarely  _ seen  _ horses in his time with the coven, let alone ridden one.

  
  


Cobalt was readied swiftly, Chan clearly knowing what to do from muscle memory as he worked. Once he finished, he gave Minho an appraising look, eyes sweeping from witch to horse and back again.

  
  


“Yes?”

“Well … you’ve never actually mounted a horse, right?”

  
  


Oh. Right. In his excitement, Minho really had forgotten that he had  _ zero clue  _ as to how to even approach a horse. His silence was more than enough of an answer for Chan.

  
  


“Hm … okay. I’m going to try something, but tell me if it’s too much, okay?”

  
  


Minho didn’t like that sound of  _ that,  _ but could only stand there, nerves churning in his stomach as Chan went around the side of the stable to grab something, evidently. When he returned, he held a (somewhat rickety-looking) wooden step stool.

  
  


Oh. That makes sense.

  
  


Chan placed it beside Cobalt carefully, stepped onto it, glanced at Minho, and took a deep, steadying breath. Why did he need to-?

  
  


“Can I lift you?” The Hunter asked quickly. Minho blinked. For as long as they’ve lived together, physical touch was something they generally avoided. Minho never really thought about it until now. “Because you’ve never mounted a horse before, and with your leg I don’t know how well you would-”

  
  


Minho cut off the Hunter’s nervous rambling quietly. “It’s fine, Chan. Go ahead.”

  
  


Chan blinked, then nodded, visibly steeling himself to pick up the witch. It would have almost made Minho coo if his heart wasn’t nearly beating out of his chest for some obscure reason.

  
  


Large hands wrapped around Minho’s waist and he was  _ up, up,  _ done. The whole experience couldn’t have been more than five seconds and yet … the witch’s breathing took a moment to regulate, and he was shaking just the slightest bit.

  
  


What was  _ wrong  _ with him?

  
  


Chan looked on in concern. “Was that alright? Are you hurt?” Minho only waved him off absentmindedly.

  
  


“I’m fine. Can we get going?” The Hunter nodded, jumping up onto the horse with shocking ease. He turned his head a bit to face the witch, who still looked a tad bit out of it.

  
  


“Hey, you might want to, um, hold on? Don’t want you falling off … obviously.” 

  
  


In all honesty, Minho heard about 20% of that sentence. His brain, however, seemed to act on autopilot when he wrapped his arms around Chan’s torso. He actively refused to let his mind stray to the hard muscle he could feel under layers of clothing. 

  
  


And they were off. Chan controlled Cobalt with a sort of seasoned ease that only came from experience, something that even Minho could tell. They rode in easy silence for what must have been half an hour, Minho’s arms never leaving their position once.

  
  


“How come Cobalt doesn’t live with you?” Minho eventually asked.

  
  


“I’ve been thinking about it for a while,” Chan admitted, “I just don’t have the resources - or the manpower, frankly - to build a stable. My friend Jackson lets me use his stable for free, though. He’s incredibly nice about it. I’d love to move her here and pay him back one day.”

  
  


Minho scoffed internally. Of course, Chan’s main focus would be about paying his friend back. He was just  _ like that,  _ a complete opposite of the image Minho had previously painted in his mind when thinking of humans. Chan wasn’t selfish, greedy or unkind. He was truly the opposite of all of those things, and it was nearly infuriating sometimes. Did this man have  _ no  _ flaws?

  
  


Minho knew that that wasn’t the case, but gods, sometimes it felt like it. Like Chan’s biggest flaw was merely that he was too kind for his own good. (Which he was, 100%, but it wasn’t an Achilles heel of his by any means.)

  
  


Wind whipped his face as the pair rode, through low valleys and rocky hills, the rhythmic thump of the mare’s hooves pounding the ground paired with Chan’s steady heartbeat lulling the witch into a fitful doze. Minho’s forehead rested on one of the topmost notches in Chan’s spine, floating in and out of lucidity as time wore on.

  
  


Finally, when the sun was high in the sky and burning down onto their too-many-layers of morning wear, they arrived. Minho heard the telltale crash of the waves first, and the salty sting of sea air in his nose quickly after the fact.

  
  


Chan rounded Cobalt along to a small clearing only a few yards from the beginning of the sand, a quaint and shady little area that the mare would surely enjoy.

  
  


Dismounting smoothly, the Hunter pulled a length of rope out of his bag and secured it around the sturdiest looking tree in the vicinity, quickly connecting it to Cobalt herself before smoothing down her mane placatingly.

  
  


“Do you need help down?” Chan asked a slowly awakening Minho. The witch rubbed a loose fist into his eyes before mumbling a short ‘yes, please’ and swinging one of his legs around.

  
  


With much less gut-wrenching anxiety (perhaps because this time the witch barely seemed lucid, let alone hyper-analyzing his every move), Chan once again hoisted Minho down from the horse.

  
  


“So,” Chan grinned, hiking his bag back up over his shoulder and throwing a glance back at the other, “ready to see the beach?” The only confirmation he needed was the witch’s enthusiastic nodding (he looked  _ very  _ awake all of the sudden) before the pair took off in a not-so-sluggish power walk towards the shoreline.

  
  


Now, the trip had taken its toll on Chan, sure. The off-schedule wake-up time did no favors for his energy reserve, and gods if his back wasn’t aching a bit from that extended ride.

  
  


And yet… 

  
  


The muted little gasp that Minho let out upon the first sight of the ocean somehow made the entire venture worth it. At that moment, Chan decided he would do it all time and time again if it only meant he got to see the star-like shine in the witch’s eyes once more.

  
  


He was completely gone for Minho. And maybe that was okay.

  
  


“How close do you want to get to the water?” Chan asked, vividly remembering Minho’s complete disdain for swimming. Or get wet in general, really. Not unheard of for witches.

  
  


“We’ll see,” The other shrugged. With that, they stepped onto the sand. Chan kept great mind to stay near the witch at all times. Sand was not the preferable surface to walk on with a healing leg. Speaking of--

  
  


“How’s your leg doing? You’re walking well, right? If you ever need to rest, tell me and--”

  
  


“I’m  _ fine,  _ Chan, I assure you. I changed the bandages this morning, you  _ watched me  _ do it for gods sakes!”

  
  


“I know,” The Hunter sighed, nearing dangerously close to a whine. “But seriously, just tell me.”

  
  


“Of course.” There was no point in fighting Chan’s worrying streak, Minho had learned he could only temporarily appease it.

  
  


“Thank you.” A comfortable silence settled over the pair as they began to walk the shoreline, still keeping a good distance from the water, but enough to enjoy the lull of the crashing waves.

Chan had visited this particular beach many times before, though not recently with Minho in his care. He remembered taking the long ride out to unwind and destress, going to the only place he knew contained virtually no people. Well, besides the rare mer that would dare to venture close enough to the shore - generally the young, less experienced ones - but they were gone in a matter of seconds if Chan ever happened to look their way.

  
  


The beach held memories of peace for him. He hoped it could do the same for Minho as well.

  
  


He was about to turn to the witch to ask something, instead seeing a distinctive flash in his peripherals. And yet, when he turned fully, there wasn’t a trace of anything. Mer’s tended to leave behind ripples in the water long after they had left, and yet, save for the steady waves, the water was relatively smooth.

  
  


“Chan?”

  
  


“It’s alright, it’s nothing. Thought I saw something. Just paranoid, I’d bet, haven’t left the house in a while, y’know?” Minho didn’t seem particularly calmed by the Hunter’s reaction, but nodded regardless, a gleam of unease still resting in his eyes.

  
  


“Okay. Can we sit down?”

  
  


“Does your leg hurt?” Chan hurried to ask.

  
  


“Not really,” Minho shrugged, “Just not used to walking for this long anymore,” He looked a bit bashful saying that, but it was understandable. Chan should have noticed his labored breathing sooner. “Sorry.”

  
  


“Don’t apologize,” Chan smiled, “You’re perfectly fine. It’s on me, really, I wasn’t even thinking about that.”

  
  


The Hunter dug a blanket out of his bag to lay down on the ground. (“You’d understand if you’ve gotten sand in places sand should  _ never  _ be,” he grumbled under Minho’s questioning stare.)

  
  


They both settled down on it, placed in the shade of a small rock outcropping so the overhead sun wasn’t too draining. (Chan knew that Minho wasn’t a huge fan of the sun. He tended to get tired quickly under it, so he did his best to supply for the other.)

  
  


“Do you know what your next outing is going to entail?” Minho asked eventually, making Chan startle the slightest bit. Despite being the entire reason they were  _ there  _ in the first place _ ,  _ the topic of Chan’s newest assignment hadn’t arisen. He supposed now was as good a time as ever.

  
  


“I can’t spill too many details, but I’ll be with a group of two others - they’re good friends, don’t worry - we’re tracking down a band of djinn that’ve been wreaking havoc across, like, three whole regions.”

  
  


“That’s … dangerous. Djinn are horrible when they wish to be.” Minho frowned. “Why three weeks?”

  
  


“Well,” Chan rubbed the back of his neck and chuckled, “Nobody’s actually  _ found  _ them yet, is the biggest problem. My friends and I are, uh, pretty good trackers, but they could be pretty much anywhere on the continent. We only have a few leads, so.”

  
  


“So you and your friends are going on a wild goose chase after a band of djinn? For three weeks? And you’re getting paid?” Minho asked incredulously.

  
  


“Basically, yeah. Although we only get paid if we find them. The council decides their fate after that.”

  
  


Ah, the Council. Minho has had some choice words for members of  _ the Council  _ for years, but airing his grievances with Chan wouldn’t do much, he figured. The man’s just trying to get paid, after all.

“Just be careful, please.” Minho sighs. “I’d feel really bad living in your house if you were dead.”

  
  


Chan knew that this was the other’s odd way of saying that he cared. The Hunter appreciated it, unorthodox or not.

  
  


“I will, promise. Hunter’s generally don’t get very injured, but I suppose it’s, uh- nevermind.” Chan grimaced, going a bit red.

  
  


“What?” The witch pressed.

  
  


“Ugh, this sounds horribly cocky, but, uh, Hunter’s are specifically chosen as the best of the best from their training groups. So… that's me, I guess. We don’t get hurt much.”

  
  


“Chan,” Minho furrowed his eyebrows. Chan tensed, partially expecting to get chewed out for essentially calling himself the best of the best, which was, in his opinion, the furthest thing from fact. “You shouldn’t be embarrassed about that. You’re talented, obviously. They chose you for a reason, right? Don’t be ashamed to admit that.”

  
  


Oh. Wow. That was different. Pleasantly so.

  
  


“Th-thank you,” Chan stumbled. He could feel his ears burning, but looking over to Minho, all he could see were sparkly eyes curved in mirth, and lips that were suddenly incredibly close to his own.

  
  


Minho had pretty lips. Really, the witch was just plainly beautiful. He swore he saw the witch’s eyes glance down at his own.

  
  


_ Lies…  _

  
  


_ Lies…  _

  
  


The pair jumped apart upon hearing the voice. It was strange. In the few moments Chan had registered it, it sounded almost human, but not quite. Something was wrong with it, on a fundamental level. It was unnerving.

  
  


_ Lies…  _

  
  


“Chan?” Minho asked carefully, “What’s going on?” The Hunter shook his head silently, maneuvering himself in front of the witch. He  _ knew  _ that sound, he just couldn’t put his finger on it.

  
  


_ Lies…  _

  
  


The hissing was getting louder, almost all-consuming in a way. He could feel Minho behind him, stone still and tense. A bubbling sound reached their ears before their eyes, where a small whirlpool seemed to be forming not ten feet out from the shoreline.

  
  


“We need to go,” Chan murmured. Minho nodded against his back.

  
  


“Wait.” A new voice spoke. The pair paused, eyes wide as they took in this new figure. He was tall, robed, and had apparently emerged straight from the ocean.

  
  


The man’s eyes gleamed, and before Chan could blink, came another, and another, until four strange figures were lined up along the shoreline, facing the two. Chan wasn’t sure if he could take them on all at once if it had to come to that. Their expressions didn’t ensure peace, and they all seemed to radiate a sort of contained power.

  
  


From behind him, Minho gasped sharply.

  
  


_ “Yeonmi?” _

  
  


The figure furthest on the left stepped forward, pulling down her hood to reveal bright coppery hair and delicate features. She would have been beautiful if not for the evil glint in her eyes, the pull of her unnerving smirk. Her face shifted quickly under scrutiny, becoming just as kind and innocent and one would assume. Chan knew better.

  
  


“I’m so glad we finally found you, Minho. Oh my gods.” She breathed, taking a quick step forward. Chan stiffened, back up the slightest bit and inadvertently taking Minho with him. Another member of the group spoke up.

  
  


“What are you doing with a Hunter? Are you  _ insane?  _ Did he  _ kidnap  _ you?” this time it was a man, coming to stand next to Yeonmi. Similarly attractive, and yet… off. Something was not quite right.

  
  


Chan looked back to Minho for any chance of assistance, and found none. The witch’s eyes were wide, swimming with both fear and hope, and he was frozen to the spot.

  
  


“Hyunseok, Ahn hyungs… you t-two left weeks before the coven burned, how d-did you-” Minho swallowed harshly. “How did you find Yeonmi and Jeongmin hyung?”

  
  


Oh. So that’s who they were. These were members of Minho’s old coven. Right? At least, Minho seemed more than convinced, and he should of course know best. But the appraising way they gazed at both him and Chan, not unlike one would gaze at a particularly juicy steak after days without food, made the Hunter’s stomach twist. Something was wrong.

  
  


“You’re really trusting a human? A  _ Hunter  _ of all people? Gods, Minho. That’s almost pathetic.” Hyunseok scoffed.

  
  


“N-no, I-” Minho, now standing next to him, looked panicked.

  
  


“Come back with us, Min.” Yeonmi cooed, stretching out a well-manicured hand. “We can find the others. We can go back to how it was before.” She turned her gaze on Chan, now turning angry, almost repulsed, and nearly snarled, “Without any  _ Hunters  _ in the way.”

  
  


“Or we could take care of him now,” Jeongmin grinned, baring his razor-sharp teeth, not unlike a wolf.

  
  


_ Witches don’t have pointed teeth,  _ Chan realized. Slowly, he reached over and took hold of Minho’s sleeve. There was only one thing these things could  _ be  _ if they weren’t witches.

  
  


“Mimics.” He muttered under his breath. Minho heard him though, for that he could tell with how the other tensed up immediately. Water mimics, to be specific. They often disguised themselves as large sea creatures, waiting for the perfect time to strike, and lure unsuspecting beach walkers into their hungry stomachs.

  
  


“I need you to trust me on this, alright?” Chan looked the witch in the eye. Minho was shaken, he could tell. And he understood, of course he did, but Chan needed to take care of this situation  _ now  _ lest it only get worse.

  
  


“I…”

  
  


“ _ Oh,  _ do you trust him, Minho? Do you? A Hunter?” Ahn’s crude voice rang across the empty beach, but Chan’s eyes never left Minho’s.

  
  


“They’re not real, okay? They’re mimics. They’re trying to lure you in.”

  
  


“He's insane, Minho.” That was Yeonmi. She had heard him. “Are you actually going to listen to him?”

  
  


Minho’s eyes bore into his. The witch was terrified. Of getting hurt. Of making the wrong choice. Of everything.

“I…” Minho sucked in a sharp breath. “I trust you.”

  
  


That was all Chan needed. Reaching into his bag with the lightning reflexes of a seasoned hunter, he pulled out his trusty dagger. The mimics looked on, in both curiosity and amusement, which, in retrospect, was fair. Chan was well aware how unimpressive the simple steel dagger looked in his hands -- that underestimate was what gave him his biggest advantage, after all.

  
  


“I’m going to ask nicely, one time, for you all to fuck right off,” Chan declared.

  
  


Silence. Just about what he expected.

  
  


“Fine,” He sighed. “Have it your way.”

  
  


In the blink of an eye, the simple steel dagger in his hand elongated into a razor-edged sword. He charged, slashing down onto the shoulder of the mimic impersonating Ahn, who dissipated into a cloud of dust upon contact. He glanced up at the remaining three and quirked an eyebrow, a silent challenge.

  
  


The mimics of Yeonmi, Hyunseok, and Jeongmin shared a distressed glance, before raising their hands in surrender. Mimics relied on their wit and cunning to capture unsuspecting innocents. Once those innocents started fighting back, however, was where they faltered.

  
  


“We’ll leave you alone.” Yeonmi’s mimic grumbled.

  
  


“Were you sent by anyone?”

  
  


“No,” Jeongmin sighed. “We were  _ hungry. _ ” Chan could only roll his eyes. What will undoubtedly be traumatic stress for Minho, all because some mimics were  _ hungry.  _ Gods above.

  
  


Speaking of the witch, Chan glanced over towards the shadow under the outcropping to find that -- with relief -- Minho was still there, stand stock still and looking terribly lost.

  
  


“Get out of here,’ Chan nearly growled. He watched the three back away slowly, hands still raised until their calves were submerged in the ocean. The three simultaneously made a running start and dove into the water, leaving barely a splash behind.

  
  


Minho.

  
  


Chan nearly sprinted back to where the witch stood, a dazed looked in his eyes. He motioned for the other to sit down, which he did, thankfully, towel be damned. They could wash their clothes of sand once they returned home.

  
  


Neither of them said a word for a long while. Minho was clearly still recovering, and Chan was willing to give him all the time in the world. Eventually, Minho sighed heavily, head dropping down to lay on Chan's shoulder. Oh.

  
  


“How was I so stupid?” He whispered. Chan furrowed his eyebrows, making to speak before the witch beat him to it. “I can’t believe I really thought they were… real. I was just so- so desperate to know that they were okay.”

  
  


He sucked in a shuddery breath, clearly not too close from tears. Chan had never seen Minho cry -- wasn’t totally sure if he was able to, as dumb as that sounds -- but he might see it soon.

  
  


“You weren’t stupid,” Chan hummed, once he knew Minho was finished. “Like you said, you were desperate. You cared about them -- you still do, obviously. That’s not a bad thing. Maybe you acted without thinking logically, sure, whatever, but I don’t know anyone who  _ wouldn’t have  _ done the exact same thing in your place.”

  
  


Minho sniffed weakly, rubbing at his eyes a bit before muttering a watery “really?”

  
  


“Really. You’re stronger than you let yourself know. Though, I’m sorry the beach trip got ruined a bit.” Chan said bitterly.

  
  


‘No, no, don’t apologize.” Minho’s head hadn’t left his shoulder, and the Hunter’s brain was starting to malfunction a little bit. “It was nice.”

  
  


“Sure it was,” Chan murmured dryly.

  
  


“No, seriously. I missed the beach, and even if today was… eventful, I still got to see the waves. This place is lovely… you’re lovely. Thank you.”

  
  


Yeah, his heart  _ definitely  _ stopped beating for a second there. Trying to suck in the most nonchalant breath ever, Chan managed to choke out some semblance of “yeah, no problem.” Minho giggled though, so it was undoubtedly worth it in his mind.

  
  


“Do you want to go back or stay here for a bit longer?” Chan asked after a lull in the conversation. Minho hummed, now distracted from drawing little patterns into the sand.

  
  


“Can we stay here? I like it here, it’s nice with you.”

  
  


“Of course we can.”  _ Anything for you. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm SO sorry that this chapter took about a month :( school has been kicking my ass lately, but I intend for later chapters to go up much sooner. if you're still reading this story, thank you for sticking around! it really means the world to me!  
> (also, this story hit 10k words :o that's insane! i never though i'd write that much lol)
> 
> [my twt!](https://twitter.com/gyuneomi)


	3. Green

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Green**
> 
> _ Safety, growth, health, envy _

  
  


Three weeks without Chan was … an experience for Minho, definitely. Not all-around bad, but not wholly pleasant for the witch who had quickly become accustomed to spending almost all waking hours in close vicinity to the Hunter. He supposed that some time away was certainly helpful in ensuring that neither of them got too attached to one another, but it was less helpful when Minho felt the creeping anxiety of so many  _ what-ifs _ circling over him constantly.

  
  


He cared for the Hunter more than he would ever admit out loud, sure. That care in particular was a pain when it kept him from a peaceful nighttime sleep, anxieties whirling through his brain until he finally managed to drift off, often hours after midnight.

  
  


The witch was careful to keep himself busy in his waking hours, however. Taking full responsibility for many of the things Chan often did when he was home; Minho watered and weeded the garden, got the groceries from the market, and regularly headed down to the stables to take care of Cobalt. Surely, the horse had never been so clean before, after Minho’s almost daily visits during the last few days of Chan’s trip, induced by a quietly growing dread that the horse seemed to alleviate for a period of time. Maybe it was the presence of another warm body that Minho never realized he so desperately needed. Maybe the horse just reminded him of Chan.

  
  


Sighing, the witch sat down at the kitchen table, mug of tea in hand as he stared off at the furthest wall. It seemed to taunt him with the fact that he had absolutely nothing left to do, and Chan wasn’t scheduled back for a least a few more days. The house and garden were spotless, all groceries tucked away in their respective cabinets, and Minho was quite confident that if Cobalt saw him one more time this week she wouldn’t hesitate to kick his ribs in.

  
  


He figured that he could take a walk around the wooded area of Chan’s cottage, before remembering that he had never gone anywhere besides the small city market without the Hunter by his side, and gods only knew what lurked in that forest should he get lost. Bad idea.

  
  


And so he was stuck, glowering at the paneled wall as if it were the sole reason for Chan’s absence while his tea slowly went cold. It was only mid-morning, too. He had all day to glare at this particular wall if he so chose to, but he had woken up with the desire of being  _ helpful,  _ aiding Chan after all the other had given up to let the witch live with him, even if the Hunter insisted that it was “no big deal” in that infuriatingly gracious way of his.

  
  


And it  _ was  _ infuriating, as humble as he was. Minho swore that he would positively explode if Chan brushed off one of his ‘thank you’s again, with a mere “anyone else would have done the same.”

  
  


_ No, Chan. Anyone else would have left me to die on the top floor of that burned out coven, but you didn’t. Anyone else would have kicked me out of their house straight after my leg healed enough that I could walk again, but you didn’t. _

  
  


But he didn’t. And that was the whole thing, right?

  
  


He’d had so many opportunities to ignore Minho. To let the witch work out his problems on his own. Time and time again he proved himself to be far too generous for his own good, and sometimes Minho just wanted to  _ hit him over the head with a frying pan  _ because  _ how does he not realize how lovely he is. _

  
  


Minho, suffice it to say, had a lot of pent up feelings about this topic in particular. If someone were to ask him for a time in specific where just that had happened, the witch would only laugh and ask “how many would you like?”

  
  


––––––

  
  


“Hey, Minho? Would you like to go to the market with me today?”

  
  


“Huh?”

  
  


The question caught the witch off guard, undoubtedly. His leg had only just healed well enough to walk the distance that the market would require, and Chan was well aware of his aversion to other beings. Humans, especially, of which the market was full to the brim.

“I just figured, um,” Chan started, rubbing his neck shyly under the witch’s stare, “You’d want to get out of here for a while, y’know? Now that you can, and all.” He shifted a bit on his feet, clearly nervous, though Minho isn’t quite sure why. Surely offering to take someone on a shopping trip can’t be that nerve-wracking, can it? “I’d also like you to meet a few of my friends if that's okay with you.”

  
  


_ Now  _ he had Minho’s attention. Chan’s friends were elusive to the witch at best. He knew the Hunter  _ had  _ them, because he’d mentioned them once after coming back from a particularly long day out, apologizing for the wait and saying that he’d gotten caught up with some friends. Minho couldn’t remember their names for the life of him, though.

  
  


“It’s all up to you, though,” Chan hurried to say when he got no response, “I know how you feel about new people, so don’t feel pressured, okay?” At that point, the witch felt a bit guilty for letting the other stew in his own (unfounded) anxiety about the outing, and knew he had to say  _ something  _ to appease him.

  
  


“I’ll go, Chan. Please stop worrying about it so much. I think you’re actually going to have a heart attack in the middle of the kitchen.” The breath that the Hunter let out at the was both audible and visible, and his ears lit up red when Minho quirked an eyebrow, not unkindly.

  
  


“I’ve just really been wanting to introduce you guys lately. But I wanted to wait for you, first. Obviously.” Minho could only smile. Chan was too sweet.

  
  


“Can we leave in about a half-hour?” Minho asked. “I have to water the garden quickly, then we can head out.”

  
  


oO✦Oo

  
  


Minho was fully prepared for a dinky little mundane town, with more greys than actual colors on the palates of its  façades and about four corner stores to its name. Instead, the reality of it nearly blew him away.

  
  


There was a respectable amount of people milling around, even for the mid-afternoon on a Tuesday, but not so many as for it to be overwhelming. The buildings were colorful, with bright signs and banners advertising their wares all circled around center stalls selling produce and baked goods. A large fountain stood bubbling in the true center of the plaza, where a group of children were huddled around the edge, peeking over into the water and giggling raucously.

  
  


“Do you like it?” Chan asked quietly. Minho realized he’d be openly staring for a few long moments now and blinked rapidly.

  
  


“It’s nice,” The witch said simply, “I understand why you like coming here so much now.”

  
  


The pair, under Chan’s lead, headed first to the produce stalls that Minho had spotted in the center earlier while Chan explained in great detail the order of which he visited each shop. It seemed he had a route mapped out from the start, one that Minho had no intention of disrupting, so he gladly let the other man speak while he observed the litany of fruits, vegetables, and herbs displayed before him.

  
  


Chan told him to pick out some fruits that he liked, while the Hunter wandered off some ten feet away to make quick conversation with a broad man seemingly in charge of the corn stall. Minho briefly wondered if that was one of his aforementioned friends before promptly getting distracted by a basket of kiwis.

  
  


By the time he was done, his small basket was full with kiwis, grapes, and a few apples, though he was still mindful that this was Chan’s money, and Minho by no means had the right to go overboard when he wasn’t paying.

  
  


“Find anything?” Minho jumped minutely, Chan’s voice startling him from behind. Pouting ever so slightly, he gestured to what had quickly become a fruit basket sitting in front of him.

  
  


“Oh hey, I love kiwis!”

  
  


Upon Chan’s gentle urge that they should move along quicker, the pair quickly paid for their foods before setting off to a litany of different shops, all accompanied by Chan’s info dump that would have been brain-meltingly boring had anyone else but he attempted. The way the Hunter’s face lit up when talking about the little market he frequented could melt the coldest of hearts, Lee Minho’s included, who was more than happy to let the other ramble on while they visited the bakery, the butcher’s shop, and quite a few more.

  
  


Finally, by the time Minho’s legs were burning from overuse and his arms were aching with the weight of the bags he carried (how the hell did Chan do this by himself on the regular? At least his massive arms no longer remained a mystery), Chan announced that this would be their final stop - the apothecary’s shop.

  
  


When the pair stepped in, the very last thing Minho expected was expecting something (someone? Either way, it was  _ very  _ pink) to throw themselves at Chan with a squeal of “Channie!”

  
  


Chan managed to set his bags down in the nick of time to catch the ball of  _ bright  _ that had launched itself at him, laughing.

  
  


“Hi Lixie~” Chan cooed, patting the bright, bubblegum pink hair of someone who, if Minho had any experience at all with magic, was definitely a faerie, or at least in the same family as one. “How’s running the shop going?”

  
  


“Really well!” This ‘Lixie’ grinned widely, showing off two rows of pearly whites that undoubtedly rivaled the sun itself. “Minnie has been such a great teacher! I feel like I’m learning more every day.”

  
  


At the mention of his name, the boy that Minho assumed was the aforementioned ‘Minnie’ peeked his head out from behind a door frame, one that most likely led to a storage room.

  
  


“Felix, please don’t hug the custo- oh, hey Channie.”

  
  


“Hi, Seungmin,” Chan giggled, trying and failing to gently pry Felix off of his right arm. He gave in with a long-suffering sigh, though the wide smile on his face said otherwise. Minho felt a bit out of his element.

  
  


As if sensing the witch’s discomfort, Chan quickly glanced over at him, letting out a surprised “oh!”

  
  


“Lix, Minnie, this is Minho. The lunar witch I’ve talked to you guys about? Minho, meet Felix,” He gestured to the fairy on his arm, “and Seungmin.” The boy from behind the counter waved. Minho waved back, albeit tentatively.

  
  


“Channie’s been talking about you all the time,” Felix grinned, “he never shuts up about the beautiful witch living in his spare bedroom. It’s cute.”

  
  


Minho’s eyes flitted to Chan’s quickly reddening face. Neither of them, it seemed, had an answer to that.

  
  


“Please ignore him, he had coffee today,” Seungmin piped up from where he was sorting glass jars, each full of some mysterious blue-tinted liquid. “I told him he shouldn’t, but it’s not like he ever listens to me.”

  
  


“I listen to you!” Felix objected, the pout in his voice obvious even if he was facing away from Minho. “I was just  _ curious. _ ” Seungmin merely raised his eyebrows wryly, wordlessly going back to sorting, which reminded Minho,  _ right,  _ they were supposed to be shopping. He told himself that he just wanted to get out of the shop because he was tired. It had absolutely  _ nothing  _ to do with the weird twinge he felt in his chest when Felix wrapped his arms even tighter around Chan. Right. Definitely not that.

  
  


“Chan, what do we need from here?” He asked. He hoped he wasn’t interrupting but he genuinely couldn’t tell if the other was talking to anyone at that moment. He was just tired, and irritable, and guilty about being irritable because these two were clearly very sweet and Chan obviously loved them a lot, if the way he looked at them had anything to do with it. And yet there was that ridiculous twisting feeling in his chest that wouldn’t subside. It was beyond frustrating.

  
  


“Oh! Right. We need, uh, more gauze, antiseptic, bandages, basically everything we used on your leg, we’re out of that.” Minho nodded dutifully, beginning his hunt around the store for what they needed because, gods be merciful, the quicker they had the stuff they needed, the quicker they (read,  _ he _ ) could get home.

  
  


He found the bandages and the antiseptic rather quickly, but the gauze continued to elude him until he gave up and approached Seungmin.

  
  


“Hi, Minho. Can I help with anything?” The boy asked, now back behind the counter and gazing at the witch with a small smile - one that Minho could pretty confidently assume wasn’t his standard customer service smile, either. He’d seen enough of those in the past few hours to identity at a passing glance.

  
  


“Uh, sorry. Would you know where the gauze is?”

  
  


“Oh, it’s in the back, we haven’t restocked that yet. Just give me a second.” Seungmin retreated past the white curtain back into the storage area. Minho, on the other hand, forced himself to block out the sounds of muffled giggling from behind him. He knew the culprits, and yet also knew that the growing feeling in him made him want to tug Chan away, which was objectively  _ horrible,  _ because  _ who does that  _ to someone they care about?

  
  


“-nho? Minho? Hellooo…” Minho blinked back into reality to see Seungmin staring at him with a package of gauze in hand. The witch flushed, apologizing profusely despite Seungmin insisting that it was no big deal.

  
  


“Seriously, with the number of times I have to pull Felix out of daydreams in the middle of shifts, that was nothing. That’s also a coffee thing. Not good for pixies, and all.” Seungmin hummed.

  
  


“Oh, he is a pixie? That’s cool, I assumed something within the faerie family.”

  
  


“Yep. He actually met Channie before he met me, but we've been together for almost three years now.” Minho smiled politely, only half catching what the younger said but not wanting to be rude.

  
  


“That’s sweet. I hope you two are happy together. I-”

  
  


“Minho!” Chan cut the witch off on accident. Minho sent Seungmin a quick apologetic smile before turning around.

  
  


“Were you talking to Minnie? I’m sorry. We might want to get going soon though, the sun’s setting.” Ah, right. Chan knew how Minho didn’t like going out much in the dark. How ironic for a lunar witch with stellar eyesight in the dark.

  
  


Felix was gone, Minho noticed, and immediately felt guilty for feeling a tad bit happy about the pixie’s absence.

  
  


“Yeah, of course,” He said, “I think we have everything we need.” Chan eyed the materials in his hands and nodded.

  
  


“Thank you guys, again,” Chan grinned, “I still think you two let me ransack your store too much.” An affronted squeak sounded from behind the curtain before Felix’s head popped out, pouting fiercely.

  
  


“I  _ told  _ you to stop apologizing for that, you’re much more fun than this grandpa over here.” He nudged his head at Seungmin, who narrowed his eyes playfully.

  
  


“You’re literally older than me.” Only to get Felix sticking his tongue out in return before the pixie ducked back behind the curtain with a muffled ‘see you two around!’

  
  


Seungmin sighed, clearly more endeared than he’d prefer, before waving the pair out of the store. “Feel free to stop by whenever you’d like, Minho,” He added before the door closed. 

  
  


And surprisingly enough, Minho considered it.

  
  


The walk back through the town was silent, Chan only spoke up once the lights from the shops were fading behind layers of foliage.

  
  


“So,” He started, none too confidently, “was that okay?” That question in itself had many layers. Was the trip okay? Were my friends okay? Are  _ you  _ okay? The witch didn’t respond immediately, though the easy answer was on the tip of his tongue. He wanted to be honest.

  
  


“I really enjoyed it,” He said eventually. From beside him, Chan let out an audible breath of relief, and Minho couldn’t help but crack a small smile. “Your friends seem very sweet. Though I didn’t talk to them long.” Another comment was on the tip of his tongue, and the internal debate of verbalizing it plagued him since they left the shop. “Felix is … touchy.”

  
  


Minho knew very well the many ways that could be interpreted, and truly, he had liked the pixie. His energy seemed infectious and he was very clearly a kind soul. It’s what made his jealousy all that much harder to swallow.

  
  


… Jealousy? Was that the word? Minho hadn’t felt jealousy in years, not since he was a young child in the coven, envious of the older children with access to more advanced magic. But really? Jealousy? That implied that he had something to be jealous of. It meant…

  
  


Chan laughed softly, hand instinctively rubbing at the back of his neck despite the weight of the bags in his hands. “Yeah, sorry about that. He means well, but he’s always been one for physical touch. Honestly I don’t know how Seungmin handles it, I don’t know if I could.”

  
  


Minho furrowed his eyebrows. Chan seemed perfectly content with physical affection back at the store. “What do you mean? Do you not like hugs?”

  
  


“No, no, it’s not that. Just seeing your boyfriend all cuddly with everyone? Maybe that’s kind of possessive though.” Chan laughed nervously, and it took Minho a sec to process that sentence.

  
  


“Boyfriend?” He blurted, brain to mouth filter temporarily stunned into decommission. Chan only furrowed his eyebrows in confusion.

  
  


“Yeah? They’ve been together for like, two years now. I thought it was kind of obvious, honestly.” And  _ oh.  _ Minho doesn’t think he’s ever felt so stupid in his life. Of course the pair were together, it  _ had  _ been obvious. Hell, Seungmin had  _ straight up told him  _ that they were together.

  
  


“Hey,” Chan nudged his side, “you okay?” Minho nodded quickly, almost trying to clear his head before he spoke, lest his speech come out jumbled and incomprehensible. It was what his brain felt like, at least.

  
  


“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Just feel kind of dumb,” He reassured, giggling a bit, “Seungmin actually told me that they’ve been together for that long, but I think I just kind of thought he meant as roommates or something.” Chan snorted slightly, shaking his head with what might have been the most endearing grin stretched across his face. (In Minho’s humble opinion.)

  
  


“You’re silly. But it’s okay.” And  _ gods  _ why did that of all things make Minho blush something fierce? The witch merely hummed and turned his head away, pretending to view the forest passing them by when in reality he was desperately trying to put a cap of the jar of ravenous butterflies let loose in his stomach -- a both pleasant and yet deeply unpleasant feeling at the same time.

  
  


He’d never felt so thankful to see the lights of Chan’s cabin before. The burning in his arms from the heavy bags of food didn’t even phase him at that point, he just really needed to get inside, store away what they had bought, and go to sleep. Maybe it would have all been a strangely embarrassing dream when he wakes up.

  
  


––––––

  
  


Minho grinned at the memory. It had, in fact, not been an embarrassing dream. Proven very clearly by how much he remembered struggling to sleep that very night due to thoughts of _ Chan Chan Chan. _

  
  


Although, now that he thought about it, Chan seemed to turn in around night time quite a lot, didn’t he …

  
  


––––––

  
  


The pair had arrived back to the cabin late, the events from the day still seared fresh in their minds. Cobalt was once again comfortable in her stable in the town, sufficiently calmed down from her scare a few hours prior. Minho wished he could say the same. His hands were still shaking, after all. And Chan could see it more than clearly.

  
  


Chan grabbed Minho's wrist gently, asking without speaking.  _ Will you be alright?  _ Minho’s shaky nod didn’t fill the Hunter with much confidence, but Chan knew not to protest, especially when Minho seemed so fragile. He would be there if needed, but he wouldn’t force it.

  
  


Chn doubted either of them would sleep much anyway.

  
  


And he was right … sort of. The pair got ready for sleep separately, as they often did, besides the small encouraging squeeze Chan gave his hand before they parted to their bedrooms. Minho smiled minutely, and it was worth it.

  
  


Chan, as expected, slept even less than usual. His gaze wandered much like his mind, jumping from thing to thing and topic to topic without preamble. He often found himself back at Minho, though. He worried.

  
  


In the other bedroom, Minho slept. Well, to an extent. It was fitful at best, and more than once he woke up after only fifteen minutes, frustratedly shoving his face back into the pillows and praying for sleep to take him. It did, eventually, though perhaps not for the best.

  
  


Chan awoke -- when had he fallen asleep? He couldn’t remember -- to the sounds of harsh thumping against the walls and floorboards. Fear struck like lightning through his chest ( _ they found us,  _ his brain screamed,  _ they’re here _ ) before he remembered just who was in the room next to his. The Hunter was out of bed in a heartbeat, wrenching open his door and bolting into the next room over.

  
  


There Minho was, on the floor between the bed and the wall, thrashing and caught in his sheets. Chan forced the sounds of the witch’s pained sobs from his mind. He couldn’t get distracted, and the distinct ache in his heart was dangerous enough for the time being.

  
  


He approached the witch carefully, fully knowing that barging into his space unannounced could very well make everything leagues worse. So he settled for dropping to his knees, reaching out carefully to place a hand on Minho’s arm, one of the few extremities that weren’t encased in cotton sheets. When he got no violent reaction from that, he did so with the witch’s opposite leg as well.

  
  


“Minho,” He called softly, “Minho, wake up.” The witch had begun to shake less, but was still less than awake, more than likely trapped in a nightmare that he couldn’t bring himself to wake from. Chan sighed, steeling himself for a move that could very well backfire before he leaned over, dragging the sheet down partway before bringing Minho to his chest.

  
  


Chan knew how Minho felt about physical affection, and he was more than happy to respect those boundaries at all times. He just prayed that this wouldn’t shatter the witch’s trust in him, gods forbid.

  
  


He held the witch lightly in the cramped space between the bad and the wall, and Minho was free to move away as he pleased, but Chan’s heart leaped when he didn’t immediately thrash away. In fact, he seemed to relax, melting ever so slightly into the Hunter’s arms.

  
  


Chan breathed a sigh of relief. Minho wasn’t awake just yet, but this was already a far cry from the blind panic of before. Gently, he shifted the witch to cradle him the slightest bit. “Minho, I need you to wake up. It’s just a nightmare, you’re okay.” He repeated those words like a mantra as the witch’s breathing began to slow down, letting out less sporadic whimpers than before.

  
  


Eventually, Minho opened his eyes. “Chan?” He mumbled hoarsely.

  
  


“How are you feeling?” Chan worried, and without noticing, began to rock the other back and forth in his hold ever so slightly.

  
  


“Mmm, bad. Can we get off the floor?” Minho asked. With resounding ease, Chan lifted both of them off of the ground, pushing the remnants of the sheet off of Minho’s person as he did. Gently, he lay Minho back down onto his bed, and paused.

  
  


“Um, do you want me to-”

  
  


“Stay.” The witch demanded, and Chan’s stomach lit up with fireworks of which he resolutely ignored. He could focus on his puppy crush later, but `right now he was here to help calm down his friend.

  
  


Chan slid into the bed from the other side, attempting to keep a respectful distance between them until Minho moved over quickly, resting his head on Chan’s stomach.  _ Alright then. _

  
  


They were silent for a while, basking in each other’s company while Minho’s heart rate returned to normal. Eventually, Chan asked. “Nightmare? About today?”

  
  


“Yeah,” Minho mumbled weakly. Maybe he didn’t want to talk about it, and the last thing Chan wanted was to push him and potentially make him uncomfortable, but this was a topic that had to be discussed, at least a little bit. They were not going to gloss over this.

  
  


“Do you want to talk about it?” Instinctively, Chan brought his hand up to Minho’s head. At first, it simply rested there, but as time stretched on and Minho considered his answer, Chan began to brush his fingers through the witch’s hair. It seemed to relax him, which was all Chan could have asked for.

  
  


“There’s not a whole lot to talk about. I saw the others and the old coven. Lots of water...and fire.” Minho began to fiddle with one of the loose strings on Chan’s sleep shirt. A nervous habit of his, Chan remembered.

  
  


“Do you miss them?” Chan asked quietly. Minho never really talked about his life before the fire, which Chan respected. He just hoped the witch wasn’t bottling up his feelings. It tended to lead to things just like their current situation.

  
  


Chan expected this question to merit the longest pause yet, but he was wrong. Minho seemingly had an answer ready on the tip of his tongue.

  
  


“Sometimes. Once in a while I’ll get really homesick and I’ll long for them. But I have you now.” He didn’t elaborate, and yet, he didn’t have to. The way Minho ever so slightly tightened his hold on the Hunter spoke volumes more than he ever could.

  
  


Silence reigned once more before Minho let out a small yawn. “It’s time to sleep, for both of us, I think,” Chan said. He shifted, but the witch latched on, insistent.

  
  


“Please stay.” And who was Chan to deny that? So indeed he stayed. He pulled one of the lighter blankets on the bed up to cover the pair of them, and he stayed. Minho shuffled closer into him, and Chan stayed, hand still gently stroking the other’s hair. Minho’s breathing evened out against his chest, and he stayed.

  
  


He wouldn’t have wanted to be anywhere else in the world.

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is a bit shorter than the other ones, oops. (but i also wrote the majority of it in two hours with the minchan vlive as inspiration!)  
> i'd also like to thank everyone who has commented on this work! a lot of times i don't really know how to respond to them but trust me when i say comments like those literally make my day :D

**Author's Note:**

> aaa i'm Very excited for this work I've never written anything so quickly! i hope y'all enjoyed reading :] if you did, feel free to leave feedback via kudos and comments thank u muah
> 
> hey hey i have a twt (that i definitely did Not just start using no sir) @gyuneomi !  
> i also may post writing spoilers and short drabbles on there sometimes so !


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